


morning shifts

by thescrewtapedemos



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, unrequited dillton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 11:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9122413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescrewtapedemos/pseuds/thescrewtapedemos
Summary: A fateful coffeeshop meeting.(a present for j! merry christmas!)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlickerEmpire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlickerEmpire/gifts).



> i hope you like this!! :) it was so much fun to write!! 
> 
> enjoy xoxo

“Mocha, venti, whip.” 

Hugo reaches for the cup without looking. He’s not even thinking about it as he scribbles down the details of the order, a stray thought that at least _this_ asshole knows the cup sizes. Not that it really matters but...

“Name?” he asks and glances up and then freezes because-

The boy standing across the register from him smiles softly, teeth pressing into his bottom lip for a moment. He’s ruffled with the cold, red-cheeked, outfit mismatched and a little rumpled-looking, but he’s gorgeous. He’s absolutely stunning and Hugo doesn’t even hear the name that drops from his mouth because he’s too busy wondering frantically what he’d done in the past week to deserve a visit from this _angel_. 

“Sorry, what was that?” he asks when he can find his mouth again and force it closed from its undignified gape. 

The boy laughs. It’s deep and a little rough and hardly musical but Hugo can’t stop staring anyway. 

“Porter,” the boy tells him and Hugo nods numbly, looks back down at the cup to scribble out _Porter_. 

“Merci, merci,” Hugo says and the boy pauses and stares at him; for a moment Hugo thinks he’s going to speak again, maybe comment on the French, but then he’s walking away and Hugo stares after him long enough for the customer after Porter in line to make an impatient noise. 

Dillon laughs and nudges Hugo with an elbow in passing. 

“He’s pretty,” Dillon whispers as he snags a cookie from the display case. Hugo nods and sneaks another glance at Porter, standing by the trashcan and staring at his phone.

\--

“-he had the weirdest jaw too, like it was kind of crooked? But it worked for him, and it really suited his eyes. And his _mouth_ -,”

“Are you still talking about that customer?” Anton asks loudly, leaning his head around the corner. There’s a pot in his hand steaming faintly and smelling of garlic and oregano and tomatoes. “Spaghetti’s almost done, by the way.” 

“He’s still talking about the customer,” Dillon confirms lazily, barely glancing up from his textbook. He turns a page and marks something with a highlighter. “Meatballs?” 

“Of course,” Anton replies and Dillon grins. 

“His name’s Porter,” Hugo puts in mildly. 

“He’s mentioned Porter’s wrists twice so far,” Dillon reports and turns another page, reaching for the sticky-notes. “And his mouth, like… eight.” 

“It’s a really good mouth,” Hugo defends himself. Anton laughs and withdraws back around the corner, leaving a waft of steam in his wake. When Hugo looks back to Dillon he’s watching where Anton had just been, the thin cloud dissipating. His eyes are soft and unfocused. 

He starts when Hugo nudges him and smiles weakly. Hugo cocks an eyebrow. 

_Are you ever going to tell him?_ Hugo’s expression asks. 

_I have no idea what you’re talking about,_ Dillon’s answering, scrunched-up face says. 

“It was a good fucking mouth,” Dillon says aloud. “I’d kiss it.” 

Hugo punches him in the leg and Dillon yelps and shuffles away. 

“If you didn’t have dibs!” he corrects hastily. Hugo huffs and turns back to his own textbook.

\--

Working a college campus is, Hugo thinks to himself with a certain philosophical grimness, exactly what one would expect it to be.

The rushes are terrible and the tips are shit and the morning hours are insane and inhumane, but at least it’s as close as it’s possible to be to his dorm. He gets free coffee as well, and a nice employee discount. His coworkers are all fun - even Dillon - and his manager is cool. 

He gets to see Porter, too. 

He’s learning the reason he’s never seen Porter before is that the boy came in later in the day, before. Jake, his usual replacement for the later shift, had told him so after laughing at his questions until he’d nearly knocked over the syrups they’d been stocking. Hugo takes it with good humor, rolls his eyes and asks more delicately worded questions about Porter and his personality and coffee preferences. 

He sees Porter again a week later though and he’s not expecting it any more this time, for some reason. He spots him the moment he pushes through the door of the shop and it’s enough to have him laughing at himself even though he can barely drag his eyes away from Porter long enough to take other’s orders. 

He fumbles a cup like he hasn’t since he’d been hired and makes a joke with a thicker accent that normal and when Porter reaches the register he’s bright red. He forces himself to meet Porter’s eyes and smile and pretends his blush is just the embarrassment and not seeing Porter again. 

“Mocha with whip?” he asks and reaches for the venti cups. 

Porter’s smiling when he looks up and it’s brilliant. There’s a smudge of paint on his cheek, a muddy magenta. His eyes have bags under them but his expression is clear and sweet and-

Hugo shakes himself because he’s in a Starbucks, not a harlequin novel, and he has a job to do. 

“Memorable, huh?” Porter’s asking and Hugo laughs harder than he means to. 

“Absolutely,” he replies.


End file.
